These words keep slipping away
I stutter, I stumble
Like I've got nothing to say
A/N: My friend, Corrie, knows how much I love to write, and so she introduced me to FanFiction.net. Tons of thanks go to her for that. This is my first story ever on here, and I'm hoping that at least a few people will like it, lol.
Disclaimer: Lizzie McGuire doesn't belong to me; "Things I'll Never Say" belongs to Avril Lavigne.
"You've got to be kidding me." I, eighteen-year-old Lizzie McGuire, shut my locker door with a loud bang before turning to stare imploringly at one of my best friends, Miranda Sanchez. The look on Miranda's face clearly stated that she was not, in fact, kidding about the statement she had just made.
Miranda grinned as she took the light blue paper from me and began walking. "Why would I be kidding? You're a great actress and a great singer who deserves to be in the limelight for once . . . I see no problem," she replied, the devilish look on her face never leaving.
I rolled my eyes and snatched the paper back from Miranda, folding it in half and then shoving it into a plastic sleeve in my English binder. Miranda new she was being ludicrous, and I knew she was enjoying it. "I see a couple of problems," I said. "For one, I don't like to act or sing in front of people, and for another, Kate Sanders has had the lead in all the school musicals since freshman year."
At my mention of Kate Sanders, the blonde prima donna whom both Miranda and I had disliked since junior high (and vice versa), Miranda made a face like she had just tasted something sour. However, nothing could stop Miranda from launching into her reasons as to why I should do what she wanted me to do, so I tuned her out. It had been the same thing every year since we started high school, and now we were seniors; the drama teacher, Mrs. Baxter, would put up flyers around the school at the beginning of January in hopes of recruiting students at Hill Ridge High School to put on the annual musical of her choice . . . the musicals tended to be sappy romances that Kate Sanders and her posse just loved to perform, resulting in almost the entire cast being cheerleaders who either couldn't act or were tone deaf. Every year, Miranda would try to convince me to audition to be in the musical, and every year I would tell her no.
Miranda's voice snapped me back into attention. "Lizzie, have you been listening to anything I just said?" she demanded haughtily, placing her hands on her hips in the way she always did when she was angry.
Before I had the chance to reply, a masculine laugh sounded behind me and an arm went around my shoulders as another went around Miranda's. "When does Lizzie ever listen to you, 'Randa?" came the amused voice of David Gordon (more commonly known as "Gordo"), who was the only person who could get away with calling Miranda "'Randa".
"Ugh, you're right," Miranda said, looking up at Gordo with a grin. Had this been back in our junior high days, it would have been Gordo looking up at Miranda, but he'd undergone a growth spurt in the ninth grade, sending him up to five feet eleven inches tall, making him tower over both Miranda and me.
"Lizzie's always off in her own little world," Gordo continued as he removed his arms from around us to open the double doors at the front of the school.
Before Miranda could say anything to Gordo to continue their teasings of me and my short attention span, I stated, "I resent that, Gordo."
Laughing, Gordo answered, "You're supposed to. It would be bad if you agreed with it."
Miranda looked ready to say something to make her agreement with Gordo known, but before she could, a horn honked and she whirled her head around. Her boyfriend, Dustin Hamilton was seated in his car in the junior parking lot, undoubtedly waiting for her. With a quick goodbye to Gordo and me and a "call me!" in my general direction, Miranda went to join Dustin. When she climbed into the passenger seat of the car, Dustin pulled out of his parking space and sped out of the lot.
"Do you need a ride home?" Gordo asked me. He obviously remembered that my mom had asked to borrow my car that morning in order to run some errands; Dad was out of town on business and had his car. Matt was going to Melina's after school to work on a science project, which took care of finding a ride for him, since I usually drove him home.
"If you don't care," I said, grinning at him. I knew he didn't care; in fact, he enjoyed driving Miranda and me places, for some odd reason.
Gordo said nothing in response, just took my books and headed for the senior parking lot. When his cherry red Mustang convertible was in sight, Gordo reached into the pocket of his slightly baggy khakis and pulled out the remote, unlocking the car. He opened the door to the passenger's side, waiting for me to get in, and then closed it once I was seated; he then hurried to the driver's side, pausing for a moment to toss our books and his backpack into the back seat. Finally, he shut his door and started the ignition. The car was immediately filled with the sounds of the song Your Body is a Wonderland, by John Mayer.
As Gordo pulled out of the lot and headed toward my house, his nosiness got the best of him and he asked, "So, what were you not listening to Miranda about, anyway?"
"The usual," I responded, sighing. Gordo's confused look gave away the fact that he didn't know what "the usual" was, so I elaborated, "What does Miranda usually bug me about every January?"
"The school musical?" Gordo asked, looking left and right at the intersection before speeding across. He then turned on his signal, turned right, and then cancelled the signal.
"Yeah," I said. Frowning, I added, "She just can't take no for an answer. If she wants someone to beat Kate out for a lead, then why doesn't she just audition herself instead of pestering me about it?"
Gordo shrugged. "Maybe she's having flashbacks of the play she was in in seventh grade," he answered, laughing a little. At the remembrance of that disaster, I laughed as well . . . that might have had something to do with it.
"Even so," I continued, "it gets a little annoying. Sure, I can sing, and sure, maybe I can act okay, but it doesn't mean I'm destined for a lead role in the musical. Everyone knows Kate always gets the lead."
We had approached a red light, so after braking Gordo looked at me, an odd look in his eyes. "Lizzie, don't sell yourself short," he said softly. "You can get the lead if you'd just put your mind to it."
I rolled my eyes, unable to stop myself. "You sound like my parents, Gordo. And besides, I already said I didn't want the lead. Can we please talk about something else?"
He looked away. "Sorry," he mumbled. The light turned green, and he made a right turn. "I was just thinking, though . . . I've thought about auditioning, and it would be great if you would, too. We could be the leads together!"
I groaned. "Not you too," I complained, resisting the sudden urge I had to bang my head against the window. "I'm not the actress type, Gordo."
"And Kate is?" I could see him raise his eyebrows in the way that only Gordo could out of the corner of my eye, and I grinned a little.
"Well, no . . ." I admitted softly.
"You're a great actress, Lizzie."
I was starting to think about what it would be like if I did audition, and if I did get the lead role. But then, I could have kicked myself for starting to give in just because Gordo wanted me to do it. Miranda had been on my case for the past three years about it, and all Gordo had to do was give me a small compliment and I was sold. I bit my lip as Gordo pulled into the driveway of my house and he looked at me expectantly.
"I'll think about it," I agreed finally, opening the car door after I got my books from the back seat. "Bye." He raised his hand in a wave, backed out of the driveway, and then sped down the road. When his car was out of sight, I stomped my foot angrily and then practically ran inside the house.